Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 131875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Her hand fell on the back gate, and a shock of lightning seemed to sear through her bones. She screamed and fell to her knees as her mind went fuzzy all around the edges. She didn’t understand. She had been so close.
The old man came to tower over her. He clutched himself, and his eyes had gone flinty and furious. “No runaways get away from the justice of Domara.”
Then, he raised his hands, and that same lightning energy she’d felt run through her body crackled in his hands. He brought one touch to her shoulder, and another scream tore from her body until she had nothing left. Black hit the edges of her vision and then filled it.
6
The Negotiation
“No, you can’t see her. This is completely unacceptable.”
“You contacted me. I’m just following through on the invitation.”
“Now, is not a good time.”
“This is low, even for you.”
Kerrigan groaned as she woke suddenly from a deep sleep. Her muscles ached from head to toe. Her mind felt fuzzy on the edges, as if she should remember something, but it fluttered away. She tried to lift herself from the bed, but spasms racked her body.
She gasped, hating the sound even as it came out of her mouth. Then, she sat as still as she could, just like Nella had taught her, letting the magic burn off. A few moments later, the worst of it was gone, and her memories were back.
Nella.
Nella had turned her in.
Kerrigan had gone to free her, free them both, and Nella had responded by handing her. She should have known. Nella had seemed too accepting of the situation from the beginning. This was her world. This was what she had expected. Yet Kerrigan couldn’t believe it was true. That someone would choose to remain in servitude when she could have gotten away and lived her life.
But Nella had done it. And Kerrigan was right back where she had started.
Maybe worse.
She slowly raised herself to a sitting position and saw that the window was shut and a new lock had been installed on the inside. No way to break that. She didn’t even bother with the door. It was surely locked and guarded.
“The viewing was yesterday, Constantine,” Flavia snarled. “It’s not my fault that you can’t come when you’re called.”
The man snorted at the insinuation. “As if I wanted to be in a room of Domaran bastards. You invited me, knowing that I wouldn’t come to some cattle call. You’ve been pushing this on me from day one. Now that I might be interested, you’re, what, rescinding your offer?”
“Fine. If you want to see her sleeping,” Flavia snarled. “She’s asleep already.”
“Then, wake her up.”
But Flavia thought Kerrigan was on magic burn. She had no idea when Kerrigan would wake up. It was already dark outside. Had she slept through one night and onto the next? Had Tarcus come by already? What else had she missed while she’d been passed out?
Might as well get the answers to her questions. She rose unsteadily to her feet, walking as carefully as possible to avoid collapsing on the way to the door. She knocked twice, and the voices on the other side fell silent.
The door swung open, and Felix stood watch. “You’re awake.”
“I’m awake.”
Flavia jostled forward, pushing her way into the room. “Did the loud voices wake you?” she asked, as if she cared.
Kerrigan looked at her with hatred, and it was a mutual expression.
“She’ll need to be cleaned up before she’s ready to be seen.”
But the other man barged into the room without preamble.
After the parade of Domaran men, she had anticipated another Tarcus, bullying his way into an audience with her. But this man was nothing like Tarcus. He was of a similar age, but broad and wide with muscular arms, legs, and chest and the tan complexion she associated with Felix and other Andine people.
He took up the entire doorway. Kerrigan took a step backward in shock at the boulder of a man who appeared before her.
“Well,” he said, pursing his full lips and looking down at her with hard, dark eyes, “she looks like them. That’s for sure.”
“I know she does,” Flavia said. “And I should have made her presentable.”
“She looks fine.”
Considering Flavia’s apparent distaste for anyone who wasn’t Domaran, Kerrigan was surprised that she would do business with this man. Maybe money was the only thing that mattered to her.
“Do anything special?” he asked her. “Music, embroidery, song, dance?”
She arched an eyebrow. “No. I’m a fighter.”
He laughed. “I’m sure you are.”
“And a dragon rider.”
None of them believed her, but she wasn’t a doll to be put on display. She’d never enjoyed the royal side of her heritage. She’d rebuffed it at every opportunity, and she refused to stand before a man asking to buy her and lie about that fact. Her best friends, Darby and Hadrian, had been more interested in all of that. Darby had even moved into Bryonican society and been presented at court. While Kerrigan had gravitated to Clover, an outsider and human who dealt cards and lived on the wild side. She missed them all so much right then.